7MQ 


ALEXANDER  GOLDSTEIN 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NKW  YORK  •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO  •   DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 


BY 
IDA  M.  TARBELL 

Author  of  "He  Knew  Lincoln,"  "Life 
of  Abraham  Lincoln,"  etc. 


H2eto  gorfe 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1920 

All  rights  reserved 


1920,    by    American    National    Red    Cross, 
New  York,  N.  Y. 

COPYRIGHT,  1920, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 


773164 


4<^C    T^ES,  sir;  he  was  what  I  call  a 
^^      godly  man.     Fact  is,  I  never 
•A-       knew  anybody  I  felt  so  sure 
would  walk  straight  into  Heaven,  every 
body  welcomin'   him,  nobody  fussin'   or 
fumin'  about  his  bein'  let  in  as  Abraham 
Lincoln." 

It  was  Billy  Brown  talking.  We  were 
seated  by  the  stove  in  his  drug  store  on 
the  public  square  of  Springfield,  Illinois, 
he  tilted  back  in  a  worn  high-back  Wind 
sor,  I  seated  properly  in  his  famous  "Lin 
coln's  chair,"  a  seat  too  revered  for  any 
body  to  stand  on  two  legs.  It  was  a 
snowy  blustery  day  and  the  talk  had  run 
on  uninterruptedly  from  the  weather  to 
the  campaign.  (The  year  was  1896,  and 
Billy,  being  a  gold  Democrat,  was  gloomy 
over  politics.)  We  had  finally  arrived, 
3 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
as  we  always  did  when  we  met,  at  "when 
Mr.  Lincoln  was  alive,"  and  Billy  had 
been    dwelling    lovingly    on    his    great 
friend's  gentleness,  goodness,  honesty. 

"You  know  I  never  knew  anybody,"  he 
went  on,  "who  seemed  to  me  more  inter 
ested  in  God,  more  curious  about  Him, 
more  anxious  to  find  out  what  He  was 
drivin'  at  in  the  world,  than  Mr.  Lincoln. 
I  reckon  he  was  allus  that  way.  There 
ain't  any  doubt  that  from  the  time  he  was 
a  little  shaver  he  grabbed  on  to  everything 
that  came  his  way — wouldn't  let  it  go  'til 
he  had  it  worked  out,  fixed  in  his  mind 
so  he  understood  it,  and  could  tell  it  the 
way  he  saw  it.  Same  about  religion  as 
everything  else.  Of  course  he  didn't  get 
no  religious  teachin'  like  youngsters  have 
nowadays — Sunday  schools  and  church 
regular  every  Sunday — lessons  all  worked 
out,  and  all  kinds  of  books  to  explain  'em. 
Still  I  ain't  sure  but  what  they  give  so 
4 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
many  helps  now,  the  Bible  don't  get  much 
show. 

"It  wa'n't  so  when  Mr.  Lincoln  was  a 
boy.  No,  sir.  Bible  was  the  whole  thing, 
and  there  ain't  any  doubt  he  knew  it  pretty 
near  by  heart,  knew  it  well  before  he  ever 
could  read,  for  Lincoln  had  a  good  mother, 
that's  sure,  the  kind  that  wanted  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world  to  have 
her  boy  grow  up  to  be  a  good  man,  and 
she  did  all  she  knew  how  to  teach  him 
right. 

"I  remember  hearin'  him  say  once  how 
she  used  to  tell  him  Bible  stories,  teach 
him  verses — always  quotin'  'em.  I  can 
see  him  now  sprawlin'  on  the  floor  in  front 
of  the  fire  listenin'  to  Nancy  Hanks  tellin' 
him  about  Moses  and  Jacob  and  Noah 
and  all  those  old  fellows,  tellin'  him  about 
Jesus  and  his  dyin'  on  the  cross.  I  tell 
you  that  took  hold  of  a  little  shaver,  livin' 
like  he  did,  remote  and  not  havin'  many 
5 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
books  or  places  to  go.     Filled  you  chuck 
full  of  wonder  and  mystery,  made  you  lie 
awake  nights,  and  sometimes  swelled  you 
all  up,  wantin'  to  be  good. 

"Must  have  come  mighty  hard  on  him 
havin'  her  die.  Think  of  a  little  codger 
like  him  seein'  his  mother  lyin'  dead  in 
that  shack  of  theirs,  seein'  Tom  Lincoln 
holdin'  his  head  and  wonderin'  what  he'd 
do  now.  Poor  little  tad !  He  must  have 
crept  up  and  looked  at  her,  and  gone  out 
and  throwed  himself  on  the  ground  and 
cried  himself  out.  Hard  thing  for  a  boy 
of  nine  to  lose  his  mother,  specially  in 
such  a  place  as  they  lived  in. 

"I  don't  see  how  he  could  get  much 
comfort  out  of  what  they  taught  about 
her  dyin',  sayin'  it  was  God's  will,  and 
hintin'  that  if  you'd  been  what  you  ought 
to  be  it  wouldn't  have  happened,  never 
told  a  man  that  if  he  let  a  woman  work 
herself  to  death  it  was  his  doin's  she  died 
6 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
— not  God's  will  at  all — God's  will  she 
should  live  and  be  happy  and  make  him 
happy. 

"But  I  must  say  Mr.  Lincoln  had  luck 
in  the  step-mother  he  got.  If  there  ever 
was  a  good  woman,  it  was  Sarah  Johns 
ton,  and  she  certain  did  her  duty  by  Tom 
Lincoln's  children.  'Twa'n't  so  easy  either, 
poor  as  he  was,  the  kind  that  never  really 
got  a  hold  on  anything.  Sarah  Johnston 
did  her  part — teachin'  Mr.  Lincoln  just  as 
his  own  mother  would,  and  just  as  anxious 
as  she'd  been  to  have  him  grow  up  a  good 
man.  I  tell  you  she  was  proud  of  him 
when  he  got  to  be  President.  I  remember 
seein'  her  back  in  '62  or  '3  on  the  farm  Mr. 
Lincoln  gave  her,  little  ways  out  of 
Charleston.  One  of  the  last  things  Mr. 
Lincoln  did  before  he  went  to  Washing 
ton  was  to  go  down  there  and  see  his  step 
mother.  He  knew  better  than  anybody 
what  she'd  done  for  him. 
7 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
"Yes,  sir,  the  best  religious  teachin'  Mr. 
Lincoln  ever  got  was  from  Tom  Lincoln's 
two  wives.  It  was  the  kind  that  went 
deep  and  stuck,  because  he  saw  'em  livin' 
it  every  day,  practicin'  it  on  him  and  his 
sister  and  his  father  and  the  neighbors. 
Whatever  else  he  might  have  seen  and 
learnt,  when  he  was  a  boy  he  knew  what 
his  two  mothers  thought  religion  meant, 
and  he  never  got  away  from  that. 

"Of  course  he  had  other  teachin',  prin 
cipally  what  he  got  from  the  preachers 
that  came  around,  now  and  then.  Ram- 
blin'  lot  they  was,  men  all  het  up  over  the 
sins  of  the  world,  and  bent  on  doin'  their 
part  towards  headin'  off  people  from  hell- 
fire.  They  traveled  around  alone,  some 
times  on  horseback,  sometimes  afoot — 
poor  as  Job,  not  too  much  to  wear  or  to 
eat,  never  thinkin'  of  themselves,  only 
about  savin'  souls ;  and  it  was  natural  that 
bein'  alone  so  much,  seein'  so  much  misery 
8 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
and  so  much  wickedness,  for  there  was  lots 
that  was  bad  in  that  part  of  the  world  in 
them  times — natural  enough  meditatin'  as 
they  did  that  they  preached  pretty  strong 
doctrine.  Didn't  have  a  chance  often  at 
a  congregation,  and  felt  they  must  scare 
it  to  repentance  if  they  couldn't  do  no 
other  way.  They'd  work  up  people  'til 
they  got  'em  to  shoutin'  for  mercy. 

"I  don't  suppose  they  ever  had  anybody 
that  listened  better  to  'em  than  Mr. 
Lincoln.  I  can  just  see  him  watchin'  'em 
and  tryin'  to  understand  what  they  meant. 
He  was  curious,  rolled  things  over,  kept 
at  'em  and  no  amount  of  excitement  they 
stirred  up  would  ever  have  upset  him. 
No,  he  wa'n't  that  kind. 

"But  he  remembered  what  they  said, 
and  the  way  they  said  it.  Used  to  get  the 
youngsters  together  and  try  it  on  them.  I 
heard  him  talkin'  in  here  one  day  about 
the  early  preachin'  and  I  remember  his 
9 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
sayin' :  'I  got  to  be  quite  a  preacher  my 
self  in  those  days.  You  know  how  those 
old  fellows  felt  they  hadn't  done  their  duty 
if  they  didn't  get  everybody  in  the  church 
weepin'  for  their  sins.  We  never  set 
much  store  by  a  preacher  that  didn't  draw 
tears  and  groans.  Pretty  strong  doc 
trine,  mostly  hell-fire.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  preached  myself  to  the  children 
every  week  we  didn't  have  a  minister. 
I  didn't  think  much  of  my  sermon  if  I 
didn't  make  'em  cry.  I  reckon  there  was 
more  oratory  than  religion  in  what  I  had 
to  say.' 

"I  reckon  he  was  right  about  that,  allus 
tryin'  to  see  if  he  could  do  what  other 
folks  did,  sort  of  measurin'  himself. 

"Yes,  sir,  so  far  as  preachin'  was  con 
cerned  it  was  a  God  of  wrath  that  Abra 
ham  Lincoln  was  brought  up  on,  and  there 
ain't  any  denyin'  that  he  had  to  go  through 
a  lot  that  carried  out  that  idea.  A  boy 
10 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
can't  grow  up  in  a  backwoods  settlement 
like  Gentryville,  Indiana,  without  seein'  a 
lot  that's  puzzlin',  sort  of  scares  you  and 
makes  you  miserable.  Things  was  harsh 
and  things  was  skimpy.  There  wa'n't 
so  much  to  eat.  Sometimes  there  was 
fever  and  ague  and  rheumatiz  and  milk 
sick.  Woman  died  from  too  much  work. 
No  medicine — no  care,  like  his  mother  did. 
I  expect  there  wa'n't  any  human  crime  or 
sorrow  he  didn't  know  about,  didn't 
wonder  about.  Thing  couldn't  be  so  ter 
rible  he  would  keep  away  from  it.  Why 
I  heard  him  tell  once  how  a  boy  he  knew 
went  crazy,  never  got  over  it,  used  to  sing 
to  himself  all  night  long,  and  Mr.  Lincoln 
said  that  he  couldn't  keep  away,  but  used 
to  slip  out  nights  and  listen  to  that  poor 
idiot  croonin'  to  himself.  He  was  like 
that,  interested  in  strange  things  he  didn't 
understand,  in  signs  and  dreams  and 
mysteries. 

11 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
"Still  things  have  to  be  worse  than  they 
generally  are  anywhere  to  keep  a  boy 
down-hearted  right  along — specially  a 
boy  like  Mr.  Lincoln,  with  an  investigatin' 
turn  of  mind  like  his,  so  many  new  things 
comin'  along  to  surprise  you.  Why  it 
was  almost  like  Robinson  Crusoe  out  there 

—wild  land,  havin'  to  make  everything 
for  yourself — hunt  your  meat  and  grow 
your  cotton,  mighty  excitin'  life  for  a  boy 

—lots  to  do — lots  of  fun,  too,  winter  and 
summer.  Somehow  when  you  grow  up 
in  the  country  you  can't  make  out  that 
God  ain't  kind,  if  he  is  severe.  I  reckon 
that  was  the  way  Mr.  Lincoln  sized  it  up 
early;  world  might  be  a  vale  of  tears,  like 
they  taught,  but  he  saw  it  was  mighty  in- 
terestin'  too,  and  a  good  deal  of  fun  to  be 
got  along  with  the  tears. 

"Trouble  was  later  to  keep  things  bal 
anced.     The  older  he  grew,  the  more  he 
read,  and  he  begun  to  run  up  against  a 
12 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
kind  of  thinkin'  along  about  the  time  he 
was  twenty-one  or  twenty-two  that  was  a 
good  deal  different  from  that  he'd  been 
used  to,  books  that  made  out  the  Bible 
wa'n't  so,  that  even  said  there  wa'n't  any 
God.  We  all  took  a  turn  at  readin'  Tom 
Paine  and  Voltaire  out  here,  and  there  was 
another  book  —  somebody's  'Ruins' —  I 
forget  the  name." 
"Volney?" 

"Yes,  that's  it.  Volney's  Ruins." 
"Do  you  know  I  think  that  book  took 
an  awful  grip  on  Mr.  Lincoln.  I  reckon 
it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  realized 
how  long  the  world's  been  runnin';  how 
many  lots  of  men  have  lived  and  settled 
countries  and  built  cities  and  how  time  and 
time  again  they've  all  been  wiped  out. 
Mr.  Lincoln  couldn't  get  over  that.  I've 
heard  him  talk  about  how  old  the  world 
was  time  and  time  again,  how  nothing 
lasted — men — cities — nations.  One  set 
13 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
on  top  of  another — men  comin'  along  just 
as  interested  and  busy  as  we  are,  in  doin' 
things,  and  then  little  by  little  all  they 
done  passin'  away. 

"He  was  always  speculatin'  about  that 
kind  of  thing.  I  remember  in  '48  when 
he  came  back  from  Congress  he  stopped 
to  see  Niagara  Falls.  Well,  sir,  when  he 
got  home  he  couldn't  talk  about  anything 
else  for  days,  seemed  to  knock  politics 
clean  out  of  his  mind.  He'd  sit  there  that 
fall  in  that  chair  you're  in  and  talk 
and  talk  about  it.  Talk  just  like  it's 
printed  in  those  books  his  secretary  got 
up.  I  never  cared  myself  for  all  those 
articles  they  wrote.  Wrong,  am  I? 
Mebbe  so,  but  there  wa'n't  enough  of  Mr. 
Lincoln  in  'em  to  suit  me.  I  wanted  to 
know  what  he  said  about  everything  in 
his  own  words.  But  I  tell  you  when  I 
saw  the  books  with  the  things  he  had  said 
and  wrote  all  brought  together  nice  and 
14 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
neat,  and  one  after  another,  I  just  took  to 
that.  I've  got  'em  here  in  my  desk,  often 
read  'em  and  lots  of  it  sounds  just  as  nat 
ural,  almost  hear  him  sayin'  it,  just  as  if 
he  was  settin'  here  by  the  stove. 

"Now  what  he  tells  about  Niagara  in  the 
book  is  like  that — just  as  if  he  was  here. 
I  can  hear  him  savin' :  'Why,  Billy,  when 
Columbus  first  landed  here,  when  Christ 
suffered  on  the  Cross,  when  Moses  crossed 
dry-shod  through  the  Red  Sea,  even  when 
Adam  was  first  made,  Niagara  was  roarin' 
away.  He'd  talk  in  here  just  as  it  is 
printed  there;  how  the  big  beasts  whose 
bones  they've  found  in  mounds  must  have 
seen  the  falls,  how  it's  older  than  them  and 
and  older  than  the  first  race  of  men. 
They're  all  dead  and  gone,  not  even  bones 
of  many  of  'em  left,  and  yet  there's 
Niagara  boomin'  away  fresh  as  ever. 

"He  used  to  prove  by  the  way  the  water 
had  worn  away  the  rocks  that  the  world 
15 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
was  at  least  fourteen  thousand  years  old. 
A  long  spell,  but  folks  tell  me  it  ain't 
nothin'  to  what  is  bein'  estimated  now. 

"Makes  men  seem  pretty  small,  don't 
it?  God  seems  to  wipe  'em  out  as  care 
less  like  as  if  He  were  cleanin'  a  slate. 
How  could  He  care  and  do  that?  It 
made  such  a  mite  of  a  man,  no  better'n 
a  fly.  That's  what  bothered  Mr.  Lincoln. 
I  know  how  he  felt.  That's  the  way  it 
hit  me  when  I  first  began  to  understand 
all  the  stars  were  worlds  like  ours. 
What  I  couldn't  see  and  can't  now  is  how 
we  can  be  so  blame  sure  ours  is  the  only 
world  with  men  on.  And  if  they're 
others  and  they're  wiped  out  regular  like 
we  are,  well  it  knocked  me  all  of  a  heap  at 
first,  'p eared  to  me  mighty  unlikely  that 
God  knew  anything  about  me. 

"I  expect  Mr.  Lincoln  felt  something 
like  that  when  he  studied  how  old  the 
16 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
world  was  and  how  one  set  of  ruins  was 
piled  on  top  of  another. 

"Then  there  was  another  thing.  Lots 
of  those  old  cities  and  old  nations  wa'n't 
Christian  at  all,  and  yet  accordin'  to  the 
ruins  it  looked  as  if  the  people  was  just 
as  happy,  knew  just  as  much,  had  just 
as  good  laws  as  any  Christian  nation  now ; 
some  of  them  a  blamed  sight  better.  Now 
how  was  a  boy  like  Lincoln  going  to 
handle  a  problem  like  that?  Well  I 
guess  for  a  time  he  handled  it  like  the  man 
who  wrote  about  the  Ruins.  Never 
seemed  queer  to  me  he  should  have  writ 
ten  a  free-thinkin'  book  after  that  kind 
of  readin'.  I  reckon  he  had  to  write  some 
thing  to  get  his  head  clear.  Allus  had 
to  have  things  clear. 

"You  know  that  story  of  course  about 
that  book.     First  time  I  ever  heard  it 
was  back  in  1846  when  him  and  Elder 
17 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
Cartwright  was  runnin'  for  Congress. 
You  know  about  Cartwright?  Well,  sir, 
he  made  his  campaign  against  Lincoln 
in  '46,  not  on  politics  at  all — made  it  on 
chargin'  him  with  bein'  an  infidel  because 
he  wa'n't  a  church  member  and  because 
he  said  Mr.  Lincoln  had  written  a  free 
thought  book  when  he  was  a  boy.  He 
kept  it  up  until  along  in  the  fall  Mr. 
Lincoln  shut  him  up  good.  He'd  gone 
down  to  where  Cartwright  lived  to  make 
a  political  speech  and  some  of  us  went 
along.  Cartwright  was  runnin'  a  revival, 
and  long  in  the  evening  before  startin' 
home  we  went  in  and  set  in  the  back  of 
the  church.  When  it  came  time  to  ask 
sinners  to  come  forward,  the  elder  got 
pretty  excited.  'Where  be  you  goin'?'  he 
shouted.  'To  Hell  if  you  don't  repent 
and  come  to  this  altar.'  At  last  he  began 
to  call  on  Mr.  Lincoln  to  come  forward. 
18 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
Well,  you  know  nobody  likes  to  be  called 
out  like  that  right  in  meetin'.  Mr.  Lin 
coln  didn't  budge,  just  set  there.  The 
elder  he  kept  it  up.  Finally  he  shouted, 
'If  Mr.  Lincoln  ain't  goin'  to  repent  and 
go  to  Heaven,  where  is  he  goin'?'  In- 
timatin',  I  suppose,  that  he  was  headed  for 
Hell.  'Where  be  you  goin',  Mr.  Lin 
coln?'  he  shouted. 

"Well,  sir,  at  that  Mr.  Lincoln  rose  up 
and  said  quiet  like: 

"  'I'm  goin'  to  Congress.' 

"For  a  minute  you  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop  and  then — well,  I  just  snorted 
— couldn't  help  it.  Ma  was  awful 
ashamed  when  I  told  her,  said  I  oughtin5 
to  done  it — right  in  meetin',  but  I  couldn't 
help  it — just  set  there  and  shook  and 
shook.  The  elder  didn't  make  any  more 
observations  to  Mr.  Lincoln  that  trip. 

"Goin'  home  I  said,  'Mr.  Lincoln,  you 
19 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
just  served  the  elder  right,  shut  him  up, 
and  I  guess  you're  right;  you  be  goin'  to 
Congress.' 

"'Well,  Billy,'  he  said,  smilin'  and 
lookin'  serious.  'I've  made  up  my  mind 
that  Brother  Cartwright  ain't  goin'  to 
make  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  a  polit 
ical  issue  in  this  District  if  I  can  help  it.' 

"Some  of  the  elder's  friends  pretended 
to  think  Mr.  Lincoln  was  mockin'  at  the 
Christian  religion  when  he  answered  back 
like  that.  Not  a  bit.  He  was  protectin' 
it  accordin'  to  my  way  of  thinkin'. 

"I  reckon  I  understand  him  a  little  be 
cause  I'm  more  or  less  that  way  myself— 
can't  help  seein'  things  funny.  I've  done 
a  lot  of  things  Ma  says  people  misunder 
stand.  A  while  back  comin'  home  from 
New  York  I  did  somethin'  I  expect  some 
people  would  have  called  mockin'  at  re 
ligion;  Mr.  Lincoln  wouldn't. 

"You  see  I'd  been  down  to  buy  drugs 
20 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
and  comin'  home  I  was  readin'  the  Bible 
in  the  mornin'  in  my  seat  in  the  sleepin' 
car.  Allus  read  a  chapter  every  mornin', 
Ma  got  me  in  the  way  of  it,  and  I  like  it 
— does  me  good — keeps  me  from  burstin' 
out  at  somebody  when  I  get  mad,  that  is, 
it  does  for  the  most  part. 

"Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  I  was  readin' 
my  chapter,  and  I  reckon  mebbe  I  was 
readin'  out  loud  when  I  looked  up  and 
see  the  porter  lookin'  at  me  and  kinda 
snickerin'. 

"  'See  here,  boy,'  I  says,  'you  smilin'  at 
the  Bible.  Well,  you  set  down  there.  Set 
down,'  I  says.  I'm  a  pretty  stout  man  as 
you  can  see,  weigh  200,  and  I  reckon  I  can 
throw  most  men  my  size.  Why,  I've 
wrestled  with  Mr.  Lincoln,  yes,  sir,  wres 
tled  with  Abraham  Lincoln,  right  out  there 
in  the  alley.  You  see,  I  ain't  used  to  bein' 
disobeyed,  and  that  nigger  knew  it,  and 
he  just  dropped. 

21 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
:  'Boy,'  I  says,  'I'm  goin'  to  read  you  a 
chapter  out  of  this  Bible,  and  you're  goin' 
to  listen.'  And  I  did  it.  'Now,'  I  says, 
'down  with  you  on  your  knees,  we're  goin' 
to  have  prayers.'  Well,  sir,  you  never 
seen  such  a  scared  darky.  Down  he  went, 
and  down  I  went,  and  I  prayed  out  loud 
for  that  porter's  soul  and  before  I  was 
through  he  was  sayin'  'Amen/ 

"Of  course  the  passengers  began  to 
take  notice,  and  about  the  time  I  was  done 
along  came  the  conductor,  and  he  lit  into 
me  and  said  he  wa'n't  goin'  to  have  any 
such  performances  in  his  car. 

"Well,  you  can  better  guess  that  gave 
me  a  text.  He'd  a  man  in  that  car  fillin' 
himself  up  with  liquor  half  the  night,  just 
plain  drunk  and  disorderly.  'I  ain't 
heard  you  makin'  any  loud  objections  to 
the  drinkin'  goin'  on  in  this  car,'  I  says. 
'If  that  don't  disturb  the  peace,  prayin' 
won't.'  And  two  or  three  passengers  just 
22 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
chimed    right    in    and    said,    'That's    so. 
Do  us  all  good  if  we  had  more  prayin'  and 
less    drinkinV     Fact   was,    I    was    quite 
popular  the  rest  of  the  trip. 

"Now  I  reckon  some  would  a  been 
shocked  by  what  I  done.  Ma  said  when 
I  told  her.  'Now  you  know,  William,  it 
wasn't  that  porter's  soul  you  was  inter 
ested  in  half  as  much  as  gettin'  a  little  fun 
out  of  him.'  Well,  mebbe  so.  I  won't 
deny  there  was  some  mischief  in  it.  But 
it  wouldn't  have  shocked  Mr.  Lincoln. 
He'd  understood.  Seems  a  pity  I  can't 
tell  him  about  that.  He'd  enjoyed  it. 

"Well,  to  go  back  to  Cartwright  and  the 
free  thought  book  he  said  Lincoln  wrote 
when  he  was  a  boy.  The  elder  didn't 
pretend  he'd  seen  the  book ;  said  the  reason 
he  hadn't  was  that  it  was  never  printed, 
only  written,  and  that  not  many  people 
ever  did  see  it  because  Sam  Hill,  the  store 
keeper  down  to  New  Salem,  thinkin'  it 
23 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
might  hurt  Lincoln  had  snatched  it  away 
and  thrown  it  into  the  stove  and  burnt  it 
up.     Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  ? 

"Well,  Cartwright  didn't  get  elected- 
got  beaten — beaten  bad  and  nobody 
around  here  ever  talked  about  that  book 
when  Mr.  Lincoln  was  runnin'  for  Pres 
ident  that  I  heard  of.  It  was  after  he 
was  dead  that  somebody  raked  up  that 
story  again  and  printed  it.  It  never  made 
much  difference  to  me.  I  allus  thought 
it  likely  he  did  write  something  along 
the  lines  he'd  been  readin'  after.  But 
sakes  alive,  you  ought  to  seen  the  fur  fly 
out  here,  All  the  church  people  riz  right 
up  and  proved  it  wa'n't  so ;  and  those  that 
didn't  profess  lit  in  and  proved  it  was  so. 
They  got  all  the  old  inhabitants  of  San- 
gamon  County  who  knew  Mr.  Lincoln  to 
writin'  letters.  Lot  of  them  published 
in  the  papers. 

"One  of  the  most  interestin'  accordin'  to 
24 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
my  way  of  thinkin'  was  a  letter  that  came 
out  from  Mentor  Graham,  Lincoln's  old 
school-master.  I  don't  remember  it  ex 
act,  but  near  as  I  can  recall  he  said  Lin 
coln  asked  him  one  day  when  he  was  livin' 
at  his  house  going  to  school  what  he 
thought  about  the  anger  of  the  Lord,  and 
then  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  writ 
ten  something  along  that  line  and  wished 
Mr.  Graham  would  read  it.  Well,  sir, 
Mr.  Graham  wrote  in  that  letter  that  this 
thing  Lincoln  wrote  proved  God  was  too 
good  to  destroy  the  people  He'd  made,  and 
that  all  the  misery  Adam  brought  on  us 
by  his  sin  had  been  wiped  out  by  the  atone 
ment  of  Christ.  Now  mind  that  was  an 
honest  man  writin'  that  letter,  a  man 
who'd  been  Lincoln's  friend  from  the 
start.  To  be  sure  it  was  some  time  after 
the  event — pretty  near  40  years  and  I 
must  say  I  always  suspicion  a  man's  re 
membering  anything  very  exact  after  40 
25 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
years.     But   one   thing   is   sure,   Mentor 
Graham  knew  Lincoln  in  those  days,  and 
that's  more  than  most  of  them  that  was 
arguin'  this  thing  did. 

"Always  seemed  to  me  about  as  reliable 
testimony  as  anybody  offered.  I  con 
tended  that  most  likely  Lincoln  did  write 
just  what  Mentor  Graham  said  he  did,  and 
that  the  brethren  thought  it  was  dangerous 
doctrine  to  make  out  God  was  that  good, 
and  so  they  called  him  an  infidel.  Nothin' 
riled  those  old  fellows  religiously  like  try- 
in'  to  make  out  God  didn't  damn  every 
body  that  didn't  believe  according  to  the 
way  they  read  the  Scriptures.  Seemed 
to  hate  to  think  about  Mr.  Lincoln's  God. 
I  almost  felt  sometimes  as  if  they'd  rather 
a  man  would  say  there  wa'n't  no  God  than 
to  make  him  out  a  God  of  Mercy. 

"But    sakes'    alive,    Mentor   Graham's 
letter  didn't  settle  it.     The  boys  used  to 
get  to  rowin'  about  it  in  here  sometimes 
26 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
around  the  stove  until  I  could  hardly 
keep  track  of  my  perscriptions.  The 
funniest  thing  you  ever  heard  was-  one 
night  when  they  were  at  it  and  an  old 
fellow  who  used  to  live  in  New  Salem 
dropped  in,  so  they  put  it  up  to  him;  said 
he  lived  in  New  Salem  in  '33;  said  he 
knew  Lincoln.  Wanted  to  know  if  he 
ever  heard  of  his  writ  in'  a  book  that  Sam 
Hill  burned  up  in  the  stove  in  his  store. 
The  old  fellow  listened  all  through  with 
out  sayin'  a  word,  and  when  they  was  fin 
ished  he  said,  solemn  like,  'Couldn't  have 
happened.  Wa'n't  no  stove.  Sam  Hill 
never  had  one.' 

"Well,  sir,  you  ought  to  seen  their 
jaws  drop.  Just  set  starin'  at  him  and  I 
thought  I'd  die  a  laffin'  to  see  'em  collapse. 
I  wish  Mr.  Lincoln  could  have  heard  that 
old  fellow,  'Wa'n't  no  stove.'  How  he'd 
enjoyed  that — *  Wa'n't  no  stove.' 

"But  for  all  that  I  never  regarded  that 
27 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
witness  over  high.     Of  course  Sam  Hill 
must  have  had  a   stove  otherwise  there 
wouldn't  have  been  a  place  for  folks  to 
set  around. 

"It  ain't  important  to  my  mind  what 
was  in  that  book.  What's  important  is 
that  Abraham  Lincoln  was  wrestlin'  in 
those  days  to  find  out  the  truth,  wa'n't 
content  like  I  was  to  settle  down  smoth- 
erin'  any  reservations  that  I  might  a  had. 
He  never  did  that,  grappled  hard  with 
everything  touchin'  religion  that  came  up, 
no  mktter  which  side  it  was.  He  never 
shirked  the  church  if  he  wa'n't  a  member, 
went  regular,  used  to  go  to  revivals  and 
camp  meetings  too  in  those  days  when  he 
was  readin'  the  'Ruins.'  Most  of  the 
boys  who  didn't  profess  went  to  camp 
meetings  for  deviltry — hang  around  on 
the  edges — playin'  tricks — teasin'  the 
girls — sometimes  gettin'  into  regular 
fights.  Mr.  Lincoln  never  joined  into 
28 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
any  horse  play  like  that.  He  took  it 
solemn.  I  re'ckon  he  wouldn't  ever  hesi 
tated  a  minute  to  go  forward  and  ask 
prayers  if  he'd  really  believed  that  was 
the  way  for  him  to  find  God.  He  knew 
it  wa'n't.  The  God  he  was  searchin'  for 
wa'n't  the  kind  they  was  preachin'.  He 
was  tryin'  to  find  one  that  he  could  re 
concile  with  what  he  was  findin'  out  about 
the  world — its  ruins — its  misery.  Clear 
as  day  to  me  that  that  was  what  he  was 
after  from  the  start — some  kind  of  plan 
in  things,  that  he  could  agree  to. 

"He  certainly  did  have  a  lot  to  discour 
age  him — worst  was  when  he  lost  his 
sweetheart.  I've  alms  figured  it  out  that 
if  Ann  Rutledge  had  lived  and  married 
him  he'd  been  a  different  man — leastwise 
he'd  been  happier.  He  might  have  even 
got  converted  and  joined  the  church,  like 
I  did  after  I  courted  Ma.  A  good  woman 
sort  of  carries  a  man  along  when  he  lovei 
29 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
her.  It's  a  mighty  sight  easier  to  believe 
in  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  and  the  hap 
piness  of  man  when  you're  in  love  like 
I've  allus  been,  and  like  he  was  with  that 
girl. 

"There  was  no  doubt  she  was  a  fine  girl 
—no  doubt  he  loved  her.  When  she  died 
he  was  all  broke  up  for  days.  I've  heard 
his  old  friends  tell  how  he  give  up  workin' 
and  readin' — wandered  off  into  the  fields 
talkin'  to  himself.  Seemed  as  if  he 
couldn't  bear  to  think  of  her  covered  over 
with  snow — beaten  on  by  rain — wastin' 
away — eaten  by  worms.  I  tell  you  he 
was  the  kind  that  saw  it  all  as  it  was. 
That's  the  hard  part  of  bein'  so  honest 
you  see  things  just  as  they  are — don't  pre 
tend  things  are  different — just  as  they 
are.  He  couldn't  get  over  it.  I  believe 
it's  the  Lord's  mercy  he  didn't  kill  himself 
those  days.  Everybody  thought  he  was 
goin'  crazy,  but  I  rather  think  myself  he 
30 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
was  wrestlin'  with  himself,  tryin'  to  make 
himself  live.  Men  like  him  want  to  die 
pretty  often.  I  reckon  he  must  have 
cried  out  many  a  night  like  Job  did, 
'What  is  mine  end  that  I  should  prolong 
my  life?  My  soul  chooseth  strangling 
and  death  rather  than  life.  I  loathe  it. 
I  would  not  live  alway.' 

"He  pulled  out,  of  course,  but  he  never 
got  over  havin'  spells  of  terrible  gloom. 
I  expect  there  was  always  a  good  many 
nights  up  to  the  end  when  he  wondered  if 
life  was  worth  keepin'.  Black  moods 
took  him  and  he'd  go  days  not  hardly 
speakin'  to  people — come  in  here — set  by 
the  stove — not  savin'  a  word — get  up — 
go  out — hardly  noticin'  you.  Boys  un 
derstood,  used  to  say  'Mr.  Lincoln's  got 
the  blues.' 

"Curious    how    quick    things    changed 
with  him.     He'd  be   settiii'   here,   laffin' 
and  jokin',  tellin'  stories  and  somebody 'd 
31 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
drop  some  little  thing,  nobody  else  would 
think  about,  and  suddent  his  eyes  would 
go  sad  and  his  face  broodin'  and  he'd  stop 
talkin'  or  like  as  not  get  up  and  go  out. 
I  don't  mean  to  say  this  happened  often. 
Of  course  that  wa'n't  so;  as  I've  told  you 
no  end  of  times,  he  was  the  best  company 
that  ever  was — the  fullest  of  stories  and 
jokes,  and  nobody  could  talk  serious  like 
him.  You  could  listen  forever  when  he'd 
get  to  arguin',  but  spite  of  all  that  you 
knew  somehow  he  was  a  lonely  man  who 
had  to  fight  hard  to  keep  up  his  feelin' 
that  life  was  worth  goin'  on  with.  Gave 
you  queer  feelin'  about  him — you  knew 
he  was  different  from  the  others,  and  it 
kept  you  from  bein'  over-familiar. 

"There  was  a  man  in  here  the  other  day 
I  hadn't  seen  for  years — used  to  be  a  con 
ductor  between  here  and  Chicago — knew 
him  well.  It  tickled  him  to  death  to  have 
me  set  him  in  that  chair  you're  in — looked 
32 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
it  all  over,  said  it  seemed  as  if  he  could 
just  see  Mr.  Lincoln  settin'  there.  Well, 
he  got  to  talkin'  about  all  the  big  bugs 
that  used  to  travel  with  him,  Little  Dug, 
Judge  Davis,  Logan,  Swett,  Welden, 
and  all  the  rest;  and  he  said  something 
about  Mr.  Lincoln  that  shows  how  he 
struck  ordinary  people.  He  said  Lincoln 
was  the  most  folksy  of  any  of  them,  but 
that  there  was  something  about  him  that 
made  everybody  stand  a  little  in  awe  of 
him.  You  could  get  near  him  in  a  sort 
of  neighborly  way,  as  though  you  had  al 
ways  known  him,  but  there  was  something 
tremendous  between  you  and  him  all  the 
time. 

"This  man  said  he  had  eaten  with  him 
many  times  at  the  railroad  eatin'  houses. 
Everybody  tried  to  get  near  Lincoln 
when  he  was  eatin',  because  he  was  such 
good  company,  but  they  looked  at  him 
with  a  kind  of  wonder,  couldn't  exactly 
33 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
make  him  out.  Sometimes  there  was  a 
dreadful  loneliness  in  his  look,  and  the 
boys  used  to  wonder  what  he  was  thinkin' 
about.  Whatever  it  was,  he  was  think- 
in'  all  alone.  No  one  was  afraid  of  him, 
but  there  was  something  about  him  that 
made  plain  folks  feel  toward  him  a  good 
deal  as  a  child  feels  toward  his.  father, 
because  you  know  every  child  looks  upon 
his  father  as  a  wonderful  man. 

"There  ain't  any  doubt  but  there  was 
a  good  many  years  after  Mr.  Lincoln  got 
started  and  everybody  in  the  state  held 
him  high,  when  he  was  a  disappointed  man 
and  when  he  brooded  a  good  deal  over  the 
way  life  was  goin'.  Trouble  was  he 
hadn't  got  a  grip  yet  on  anything  that 
satisfied  him.  He  hadn't  made  a  go  of 
politics,  had  quit  it.  Of  course  he  had 
plenty  of  law  practice,  but,  Lord  a 
mighty,  you  take  a  town  like  this  was 
along  in  the  40's  and  50's,  when  Mr.  Lin- 
34 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
coin  was  practicin'  here,  and  get  right 
down  to  what  was  really  happening  and  it 
was  enuff  to  make  a  broodin'  man  like  him 
sick,  and  want  to  quit.  He  had  to  handle 
it  all,  a  lawyer  does,  men  fightin'  over  a 
dollar,  gettin'  rich  on  cheatin',  stingy  with 
their  wives,  breakin'  up  families,  quar- 
relin'  over  wills,  neglectin'  the  old  folks 
and  yet  standin'  high  in  the  church,  regu 
lar  at  prayer  meetin',  and  teachin'  in  Sun 
day  School.  There  was  a  lot  of  steady 
meanness  like  that  all  around,  and  it  made 
him  feel  bad. 

"And  then  there  was  dreadful  things 
happened  every  now  and  then,  men  takin' 
up  with  girls  when  they  had  good  wives 
of  their  own.  There's  more  than  one 
poor  child  lyin'  over  there  in  the  grave 
yard  because  some  onery  old  scoundrel 
got  the  better  of  her,  and  there's  more 
than  one  good  man  been  put  to  shame  in 
this  town  because  some  woman  who  was 
35 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
no  better  than  she  ought  to  be  run  him 
down.  Lord,  it  makes  you  sick,  and  then 
every  now  and  then  right  out  of  a  clear 
sky  there'd  be  a  murder  somewhere  in  the 
country.  Nobody  would  talk  of  any 
thing  else  for  days.  People  who  hardly 
ever  opened  their  mouths  would  find  their 
tongues  and  tell  the  durnedest  things. 

"It  was  so  all  the  time  Mr.  Lincoln 
was  practicin'  out  here.  And  it  made 
him  pretty  miserable  sometimes,  I  reckon, 
to  see  so  much  meanness  around.  I 
never  knew  a  man  who  liked  people  bet- 
ter'n  Mr.  Lincoln  did — seemed  as  if  he 
felt  the  world  ought  to  be  happy,  and 
that  it  could  be  if  people  would  only  do 
the  right  thing.  You've  heard  people 
tellin'  how  he'd  refuse  a  case  often  if  he 
didn't  think  it  ought  to  be  brought. 
Well,  sir,  that's  true.  I've  heard  him 
argue  time  and  again  with  the  boys  about 
the  duty  of  lawyers  to  discourage  law- 
36 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
suits.  'It's  our  business  to  be  peacemak 
ers/  he  used  to  tell  'em,  'not  to  stir  up 
quarrels  for  the  sake  of  makin'  a  little 
money.'  I  remember  somebody  tellin' 
how  they  heard  him  lecturin'  a  man  who'd 
brought  him  a  case,  and  pointed  out  that 
by  some  sort  of  a  legal  trick,  he  could  get 
$600.  Made  Lincoln  mad  all  through. 
'I  won't  take  your  case,'  he  said,  'but  I'll 
give  you  some  free  advice.  You're  a 
husky  young  man.  Go  to  work  and  earn 
your  $600.' 

"I've  always  figured  it  out  that  he  was 
a  sight  more  contented  after  he  got  his 
grip  on  the  slavery  question.  You  know 
how  he  felt  about  slavery;  thought  it  was 
wrong,  and  when  he  began  to  see  there 
was  a  chance  to  fight  it  in  a  way  that 
would  count,  he  felt  different  towards  his 
life,  saw  it  did  mean  something,  began  to 
feel  he  was  some  real  use.  I  reckon  he 
began  to  believe  God  had  a  place  for  him 
37 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
—that  he  was  put  into  the  world  for  a 
good  and  sufficient  reason.  Now  as  I 
see  Mr.  Lincoln,  that  was  all  he  ever 
needed  to  reconcile  him  to  things.  As  he 
began  to  see  more  and  more  that  he  had 
his  argument  sound,  and  that  it  was 
takin'  hold  in  the  country,  that  men  was 
listenin'  to  him  and  sayin'  he  had  it  right, 
why  more  and  more  he  was  something  like 
happy.  He  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
time  had  come  when  God  meant  to  say  to 
slavery,  'Thus  far  and  no  farther,'  and  he 
was  ready  to  put  in  his  best  licks  to  help 
Him. 

"He  wrestled  with  that  question  till  he 
drove  it  clean  out  of  politics  right  down 
onto  bed  rock  of  right  and  wrong,  and 
there  he  stood;  slavery  was  wrong,  and 
accordin'  to  his  way  of  lookin'  at  it,  peo 
ple  who  pretended  to  regulate  their  lives 
on  religion  ought  to  be  agin  it.  Allus 
troubled  him  a  lot  and  sometimes  made 
38 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
him  pretty  bitter  that  so  many  folks  that 
stood  high  as  Christians  was  for  slavery. 
I  remember  Newt  Bateman  tellin'  how 
Lincoln  came  in  his  office  one  day  after 
his  nomination — Newt  was  State  School 
Superintendent,  and  he  and  Mr.  Lincoln 
was  always  great  friends, — well,  he  said 
Mr.  Lincoln  came  in  with  a  report  of  a 
canvass  of  how  people  in  Springfield  were 
goin'  to  vote,  and  he  said : 

"  'Let's  see  how  the  ministers  in  this 
town  are  goin'  to  vote,'  and  he  went 
through  the  list  pickin'  'em  out  and  set- 
tin'  'em  down,  'and,  would  you  believe  it 
now,  he  found  that  out  of  23  ministers  20 
were  against  him.  He  was  dreadfully 
upset,  and  talked  a  long  time  about  it. 
Newt  said  he  pulled  a  New  Testament 
out  of  his  pocket. 

"  'What  I  don't  understand,'  he  said, 
'is  how  anybody  can  think  this  book  stands 
for  slavery.     Human  bondage  can't  live 
39 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
a  minute  in  its  light,  and  yet  here's  all 
these  men  who  consider  themselves  called 
to  make  the  teachin'  of  this  book  clear 
votin'  against  me.  I  don't  understand 
it. 

'They  know  Douglas  don't  care 
whether  slavery's  voted  up  or  down,  but 
they  ought  to  know  that  God  cares  and 
humanity  cares  and  they  know  I  care. 
They  ain't  been  readin'  their  Bibles  right. 

'  'Seems  to  me  sometimes  as  if  God  had 
borne  with  this  thing  until  the  very  teach 
ers  of  religion  had  come  to  defend  it  out 
of  the  Bible.  But  they'll  find  the  day 
will  come  when  His  wrath  will  upset  it. 
I  believe  the  cup  of  iniquity  is  full,  and 
that  before  we  get  through  God  will  make 
the  country  suffer  for  toleratin'  a  thing 
that  is  so  contrary  to  what  He  teaches  in 
this  Book.' 

"As  I  see  it,  that  idee  grew  in  him. 
You  know  how  he  hated  war.     Seemed 
40 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
as  if  he  couldn't  stand  it  sometimes,  but 
there  ain't  no  doubt  that  more  and  more 
he  looked  at  it  as  God's  doin' — His  way 
of  punishin'  men  for  their  sin  in  allowin' 
slavery.  He  said  that  more'n  once  to  the 
country.  Remember  what  he  wrote  in 
his  call  for  a  fast-day  in  the  spring  of 
'63?  No?  Well,  I've  got  it  here — just 
let  me  read  it  to  you." 

Billy  rose,  and  after  lingering  long 
enough  at  the  window  to  remark  that  the 
"storm  wa'n't  lettin'  up  any,"  went  to  a 
scratched  and  worn  desk,  a  companion 
piece  to  "Mr.  Lincoln's  chair,"  and  took 
from  the  drawer  where  he  kept  his  pre 
cious  relics  a  bundle  of  faded  yellow  news 
papers  and  selected  a  copy  of  the  New 
York  Tribune  of  March  31,  1863. 

"Now  you  listen,"  said  Billy,  "and  see 

if  I  ain't  right  that  his  idee  when  he  talked 

to  Newt  had  takin'  hold  of  him  deep." 

So  Billy  read   sonorously  the   sentences 

41 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
which  seemed  to  him  to  demonstrate  his 
point : 

"  'Insomuch  as  we  know  that  by  His  di 
vine  law  nations,  like  individuals,  are  sub 
jected  to  punishments  and  chastisements 
in  this  world,  may  we  not  justly  fear  that 
the  awful  calamity  of  civil  war  which  now 
desolates  the  land  may  be  but  a  punish 
ment  inflicted  upon  us  for  our  presumptu 
ous  sins,  to  the  needful  end  of  our  national 
reformation  as  a  whole  people.' 

"Isn't  that  just  what  he  said  to  Newt 
Bateman,"  Billy  stopped  long  enough  to 
remark. 

'We  have  been  the  recipients  of  the 
choicest  bounties  of  Heaven.  We  have 
been  preserved,  these  many  years,  in 
peace  and  prosperity.  We  have  grown 
in  numbers,  wealth,  and  power  as  no  other 
nation  has  ever  grown;  but  we  have  for 
gotten  God.  We  have  forgotten  the 
gracious  hand  which  preserved  us  in 
42 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
peace,  and  multiplied  and  enriched  and 
strengthened  us;  and  we  have  vainly  im 
agined,  in  the  deceitfulness  of  our  hearts, 
that  all  these  blessings  were  produced  by 
some  superior  wisdom  and  virtue  of  our 
own.  Intoxicated  with  unbroken  suc 
cess,  we  have  become  too  self-sufficient  to 
feel  the  necessity  of  redeeming  and  pre 
serving  grace,  too  proud  to  pray  to  the 
God  that  made  us : 

"  'It  behooves  us,  then,  to  humble  our 
selves  before  the  offended  Power,  to  con 
fess  our  national  sins,  and  to  pray  for 
clemency  and  forgiveness.' 

"The  longer  the  war  went  on,  the  more 
and  more  sure  he  was  that  God  was 
workin'  out  something,  and  hard  as  it  was 
for  him,  the  more  and  more  reconciled  he 
got  to  God's  Government.  Seems  to  me 
that's  clear  from  what  he  said  in  his  last 
Inaugural.  You  remember: 
43 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
"The  Almighty  has  His  own  purposes. 
'Woe  unto  the  world  because  of  offenses! 
For  it  must  needs  be  that  offenses  come; 
but  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offense 
cometh.'  Fondly  do  we  hope,  fervently 
do  we  pray  that  this  mighty  scourge  of 
war  may  speedily  pass  away,  yet  if  God 
wills  that  it  continue  until  all  the  wealth 
piled  by  the  bondsman's  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  of  unrequited  toil  shall  be 
sunk,  and  until  every  drop  of  blood  drawn 
with  the  lash  shall  be  paid  by  another 
drawn  with  the  sword,  as  was  said  three 
thousand  years  ago,  so  still  it  must  be 
said,  'The  judgments  of  the  Lord  are 
true  and  righteous  altogether.' 

"I  like  to  say  that  just  like  he  said  it. 
Seems  kinda  like  music.  He  was  that 
way  sometimes,  swung  into  sort  of  talk 
and  made  your  heart  stop  to  listen;  it  was 
so  sweet  and  solemn-like. 

"Makes  me  ache  though  to  think  what 
44 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
he  had  to  go  through  to  come  out  where 
he  could  talk  so  sure  and  calm  about 
things;  for  certain  as  he  was  that  God 
had  a  purpose  in  it  all,  he  wa'n't  so  sure 
always  that  he  was  proceedin'  along  the 
lines  the  Almighty  approved  of.  He 
never  got  over  that  struggle  long  as  he 
was  President,  always  askin'  himself 
whether  he  was  on  God's  side.  Puzzled 
him  bad  that  both  sides  thought  God  was 
with  'em.  He  pointed  out  more  than 
once  how  the  rebel  soldiers  was  prayin' 
for  victory  just  as  earnest  as  ours — how 
the  rebel  people  got  the  same  kind  of  help 
out  of  prayer  that  the  Union  people  did. 
And  both  couldn't  be  right. 

"There  isn't  any  doubt  he  often  tested 
out  whether  God  agreed  with  his  argu 
ment  or  not,  by  the  way  things  swung. 
It  was  that  way  about  the  Emancipa 
tion  Proclamation.  You  know  how  he 
thought  about  that  for  months,  and  for 
45 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
the  most  part  kept  it  to  himself.  He 
didn't  want  to  do  it  that  way,  was  dead 
set  on  the  North  buying  the  slaves  in 
stead  of  takin'  'em.  But  he  had  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation  ready,  and 
and  he'd  told  God  he'd  let  it  loose  if  He'd 
give  us  the  victory.  Sounds  queer, 
mebbe,  but  that's  what  he  did.  He  told 
the  Cabinet  so,  and  they've  told  about  it. 
A  little  mite  superstitious,  some  would 
say.  But  Mr.  Lincoln  was  a  little  super 
stitious,  interested  in  things  like  signs  and 
dreams — specially  dreams,  seemed  to  feel 
they  might  be  tryin'  to  give  him  a  hint. 
He's  told  me  many  a  time  about  dreams 
he'd  had,  used  to  have  same  dream  over 
and  over,  never  got  tired  studyin'  what  it 
meant.  You  remember  that  happened  in 
the  war.  He'd  used  to  dream  he  saw  a 
curious  lookin'  boat  runnin'  full  speed  to 
ward  a  shore  he  couldn't  make  out  clear, 
had  that  dream  before  nearly  all  the  big 
46 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
battles — had    it    the    night    before    they 
killed  him,  and  told  the  Cabinet  about  it 
— thought  it  meant  there'd  be  good  news 
from  Sherman. 

"He  got  powerful  discouraged  some 
times,  for  it  did  seem  the  first  three  years 
of  the  war  as  if  the  Almighty  wa'n't  sym- 
pathizin'  over  much  with  the  North. 
You  remember  how  I  told  you  once  of 
havin'  a  long  talk  with  him  at  night  that 
time  I  went  down  to  Washington  to  see 
him.  Things  was  bad,  awful  bad.  Coun 
try  just  plum  worn  out  with  the  war. 
People  was  beginnin'  to  turn  against  it. 
Couldn't  stand  the  blood  lettin',  the  suf- 
ferin',  and  the  awful  wickedness  of  it. 
There  was  a  lot  of  that  feelin'  in  '64. 
People  willin'  to  give  up  anything — let 
the  South  go — let  her  keep  her  slaves- 
do  anything  to  put  an  end  to  the  killin'. 
I  tell  you  a  man  has  to  keep  his  eyes  ahead 
in  war — keep  tellin'  himself  over  and  over 
47 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
what's  it  all  about.  Mr.  Lincoln  had  to. 
They  were  talkin'  peace  to  him,  riotin' 
about  the  drafts,  stirrin'  up  more  kinds  of 
trouble  for  him  than  he  ever  knew  there 
was,  I  reckon.  And  he  felt  it — felt  it 
bad;  and  that  night  it  seemed  to  do  him 
good  to  talk  it  out.  You  see  I  come  from 
home,  and  I  didn't  have  no  connection 
with  things  down  there,  and  'twas  natural 
he'd  open  up  to  me  as  he  couldn't  to  them 
on  the  ground ;  and  he  did. 

"'I've  studied  a  lot,  Billy,'  he  said, 
'whether  this  is  God's  side  of  this  war. 
I've  tried  my  best  to  figure  it  out  straight, 
and  I  can't  see  anything  but  that  He  must 
be  for  us.  But  look  how  things  is  goin'. 

"  'One  thing  sure  all  I  can  do  is  to  fol 
low  what  I  think's  right.  Whatever  shall 
appear  to  be  God's  will,  I'll  do.  There's 
quite  a  number  of  people  who  seem  to 
think  they  know  what  God  wants  me  to 
do.  They  come  down  every  now  and 
48 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
then  and  tell  me  so.  I  must  say  as  I've 
told  some  of  them  that  it's  more'n  likely 
if  God  is  goin'  to  reveal  His  will  on  a 
point  connected  with  my  duty  He'd  nat 
urally  reveal  it  to  me.  They  don't  all  lay 
it  up  against  me  when  I  talk  that  way. 
Take  the  Quakers.  They're  good  peo 
ple,  and  they've  been  in  a  bad  fix  for  they 
don't  believe  in  slavery,  and  they  don't 
believe  in  war,  and  yet  it  seems  to  have 
come  to  the  point  that  out  of  this  war 
started  to  save  free  government,  we're  go 
ing  to  get  rid  of  slavery.  But  they  can't 
accept  that  way.  Still  they  don't  lay  it 
up  against  me  that  I  do,  and  they  pray 
regular  for  me. 

'We've  been  wrong,  North  and  South, 
about  slavery.  No  use  to  blame  it  all  on 
the  South.  We've  been  in  it  too,  from 
the  start.  If  both  sides  had  been  willin' 
to  give  in  a  little,  we  might  a  worked  it 
out,  that  is  if  we'd  all  been  willin'  to  admit 
49 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 
the  thing  was  wrong,  and  take  our  share 
of  the  burden  in  puttin'  an  end  to  it.     It's 
because  we  wouldn't  or  mebbe  couldn't 
that  war  has  come. 

"  'It's  for  our  sins,  Billy,  this  war  is. 
We've  brought  it  on  ourselves.  And 
God  ain't  goin'  to  stop  it  because  we  ask 
Him  to.  We've  got  to  fulfill  the  law. 
We  broke  the  law,  and  God  wouldn't  be 
God  as  I  see  Him  if  He  didn't  stand  by 
His  own  laws  and  make  us  take  all  that's 
comin'  to  us.  I  can't  think  we  won't  win 
the  war.  Seems  to  me  that  must  be  God's 
way,  but  if  we  don't,  and  the  Union  is 
broken  and  slavery  goes  on,  well,  all  it 
means  accordin'  to  my  way  of  seein' 
things  is  that  the  laws  ain't  satisfied  yet, 
that  we  'ain't  done  our  part.  There'll 
be  more  trouble  until  the  reason  of  trouble 
ends. 

"  'But  I  don't  lay  it  up  against  God. 
Billy.     What  it  seems  to  me  He's  tryin' 
50 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
to  do  is  to  get  men  to  see  that  there  can't 
be  any  peace  or  happiness  in  this  world 
so  long  as  they  ain't  fair  to  one  another. 
You  can't  have  a  happy  world  unless 
you've  got  a  just  world,  and  slavery  ain't 
just.  It's  got  to  go.  I  don't  know 
when.  It's  always  seemed  to  me  a  pretty 
durable  struggle — did  back  in  '58,  but  I 
didn't  see  anything  so  bad  then  as  we've 
come  to.  Even  if  I'd  known  I  couldn't 
have  done  different,  Billy.  Even  if  we 
don't  win  this  war  and  the  Confederates 
set  up  a  country  with  slavery  in  it,  that 
ain't  going  to  end  it  for  me.  I'll  have  to 
go  on  fightin'  slavery.  I  know  God 
means  I  should. 

"  'It  takes  God  a  long  time  to  work  out 
His  will  with  men  like  us,  Billy,  bad  men, 
stupid  men,  selfish  men.  But  even  if 
we're  beat,  there's  a  gain.  There  are 
more  men  who  see  clear  now  how  hard  it 
is  for  people  to  rule  themselves,  more  peo- 
51 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
pie  determined  government  by  the  people 
shan't  perish  from  the  earth,  more  peo 
ple  willin'  to  admit  that  you  can't  have 
peace  when  you've  got  a  thing  like  slavery 
goin'  on.  That's  something,  that's  goin' 
to  help  when  the  next  struggle  comes. 

'You  mustn't  think  I'm  givin'  in, 
Billy.  I  ain't,  but  look  how  things  are 
goin'.  What  if  we  lose  the  election,  and 
you  must  admit  it  looks  now  as  if  we 
would,  what  if  we  lose  and  a  Copperhead 
Government  makes  peace — gives  the 
South  her  slaves — lets  the  "erring  sisters" 
set  up  for  themselves.  I've  got  to  think 
about  that,  Billy. 

'  'Seems  to  me  I  can't  bear  the  idea  all 
this  blood-lettin'  should  end  that  way,  for 
I  know  lasting  peace  ain't  in  that  set  of 
circumstances.  That  means  trouble, 
more  trouble,  mebbe  war  again  until  we 
obey  the  law*  of  God,  and  let  our  brother 
man  go  free.' 

52 


IN    LINCOLN'S    CHAIR 

"And  he  just  dropped  his  head  and 
groaned,  seemed  as  if  I  could  hear  him 
prayin',  'Oh,  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible, 
let  this  cup  pass  from  me!' 

"Think  he  prayed?  Think  Abraham 
Lincoln  prayed?"  Billy's  eyes  were 
stern,  and  his  voice  full  of  reproachful 
surprise. 

"I  know  he  did.  You  wouldn't  ask 
that  question  if  you  could  have  heard  him 
that  night  he  left  here  for  Washington 
sayin'  good-by  to  us  in  the  rain,  tellin'  us 
that  without  God's  help  he  could  not  suc 
ceed  in  what  he  was  goin'  into — that  with 
it,  he  could  not  fail ;  tellin'  us  he  was  turn- 
in'  us  over  to  God,  and  askin'  us  to  re 
member  him  in  our  prayers.  Why,  a  man 
can't  talk  like  that  that  don't  pray,  least 
wise  an  honest  man  like  Abraham  Lin 
coln. 

"And  he  couldn't  have  stood  it  without 
God,  sufferin'  as  he  did,  abused  as  he  was, 
53 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
defeated  again  and  again,  and  yet  always 
hangin'  on,  always  belie  vin'.  Don't  you 
see  from  what  I've  been  tellin'  you  that 
Abraham  Lincoln  all  through  the  war 
was  seekin'  to  work  with  God,  strugglin' 
to  find  out  His  purpose,  and  make  it  pre 
vail  on  earth.  A  man  can't  do  that  un 
less  he  gets  close  to  God,  talks  with  Him. 

"How  do  you  suppose  a  man — just  a 
common  man,  like  Abraham  Lincoln,  could 
ever  have  risen  up  to  say  anything  like 
he  did  in  '65  in  his  Inaugural  if  he  hadn't 
known  God: 

"  'With  malice  toward  none,  with  char 
ity  for  all;  with  firmness  in  the  right,  as 
God  gives  us  to  see  the  right,  let  us  strive 
on  to  finish  the  work  we  are  in;  to  bind 
up  the  nation's  wounds;  to  care  for  him 
who  shall  have  borne  the  battle  and  for 
his  widow  and  his  orphan — to  do  which 
may  achieve  a  just  and  lasting  peace 
among  ourselves  and  with  all  nations.' 
54 


IN  LINCOLN'S  CHAIR 
"That  ain't  ordinary  human  nature — 
particularly  when  it's  fightin'  a  war — 
that's  God's  nature.  If  that  ain't  what 
Christ  had  in  mind,  then  I  don't  read  the 
Bible  right. 

"Yes,  sir,  he  prayed — that's  what  car 
ried  him  on — and  God  heard  him  and 
helped  him.  Fact  is  I  never  knew  a 
man  I  felt  so  sure  God  approved  of  as 
Abraham  Lincoln." 


THE  END 


PKINTID   IN   THE   UNITED    STATES   OF  AMERICA 

55 


YB  37592 


773164 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


